Out to Get You
by PoizenLovePuppet
Summary: SasoDei. Au. Five years ago something happened, but Deidara still doesn't understand, and he's worried about how thing will have changed. But it turns out the past isn't the only thing Deidara has to worry about. Or who.
1. 00 Prologue

SasoDei: Out to Get You: Prologue

Predictably, the kitchen is empty when I stumble in. It's predictable because my dad won't be up for at least a good four hours, and my mums probably not even home yet. But that's okay, because it mean I can do whatever I want, so long as I'm not too loud. I was pretty sure there's a packet of cereal in the cupboard next to the window, but I look to make sure, and it turns out it's not there. In the end I find some rolls which are still good, so I get out some jam I _know_ we have and sit down at the breakfast bar to eat it.

Our kitchen is pretty nice. Strike that, it's really nice, or would be. The whole house is pretty amazing, really. It's big and spacey, there's a front lobby, then a hallway, then the main room, which is done up all in white, white suede sofas, too. From there you can go into the den, or into the dining room. There's a massive sliding door connecting the dinning room to the main room, and another one connecting it t the kitchen. That's basically the house. I used to think this kind of house was normal, until I started going round my friends houses. Turns out I was wrong. But, yeah, the kitchen, it's (also) white, with these grey granite surfaces. That's some nice stone, seriously. Really the room is divided into two by the breakfast bar, so that one side is like a working space and the other more of an eating space. Mostly I think I'm the only one who bothers to use it. On the wall opposite where I'm sitting, there's a flat screen.

I turn that on while I'm eating. There's not much good stuff on at this time. It's probably something to eight in the morning.

I flick through the channels, trying to find one broadcasting a news programme, no such luck. There's one in fifteen minuets, though. As soon as I figure that out I don't want to eat anymore. I feel sick.

My brain is buzzing and playing mad. I'm so nervous. I want the news to come on now so I can see if there's any update on the situation. It'll only be on the news if there is. It's probably a good sign if there's nothing on, but I still wish they'd say something about it.

For a few minuets, I pick at the crust of the roll with my fingers, watching the jam sink into it, because I didn't put any butter on. The was the white of the bread seems to be slowly absorbing the red jam, making it look pink, makes me want to chuck even more.

But I _need_ to see that news.

If there's any chance they're showing anything about him, I want to see it. I hope they are and I hope they aren't.

The pit of my stomach lurches as the intro to the news comes on, and I have to grab onto the counter top to keep myself upright.

The thing is, I'm not sure I'll be able to face him, if he really does get out. I mean, he effectively killed two people. Someones kids, and maybe someones parents. Manslaughter charges, but the situation wasn't clear, there's still suspicion. It's been five year. He's probably a totally different person. I was never allowed to go see him, so I have no idea what he's like. Is he even someone I want to know now?

The headlines are being announced, and I'm holding my breath.

My mum runs in the kitchen door then. She's out of breath, and I guess she's just got in, because she still has her boots on, even though the heels look like they're killing her. And she hasn't bothered to try and cover up the reek of cigarettes and alcohol from last night. I'm about to make some comment along the lines of 'Whoa, stranger, I haven't seen you since, like, Tuesday!' but then I see her face.

Her makeup is, exuberant as ever, smudged all across her face, looking like war paint, and it's probably been moved around by a combination of sweat and tears and her rubbing her hands over her cheeks again and again, like she does when she's stressed. Is that still the makeup from last night? I think it is, because it's far too outlandish for housekeeping, unless it's this-morning-until-tonight's, if she wasn't planning on dropping by.

She stares at the TV screen across the room incredulously, then turns to me.

"Dei," she says, her voice raspy and desperate, angry, "turn that fucking shit off, they've found new evidence!" And then she collapses on the otherwise clean, white floor.

I watch her from my seat at the breakfast bar, but I don't get down. Instead I start to watch the news again.

_Shit_. Two days before he got out, too.

What the heck have you done?

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_I'm perfectly aware that the summary sucks._

_The rating is for later scenes of vilent and sexual nature. 3_

_xDia_


	2. 01

SasoDei: Out to Get You: 01

The news ends, and for a while I carry on watching the screen, not even aware of what is being shown. As soon as I turn it off, though, the room is too quiet, and I can hear my mum sobbing on the floor. I jump down off the stool, and look down at her, she looks so pathetic. For a second, I have an almost uncontrollable urge to kick her, to tell her to get off the floor, sort herself out, and stop being such a freaking wimp. She reaches out for my ankle and I move away, picking up my dishes so that I can dump them in the dishwasher.

Over the clanking of the dishes I can hear music. It's a frenzy of trashy hip hop sounds with a techno beat drumming the undertones in. I know what it is; my mum mobile. So I slam the dishwasher shut and get her bag, almost ripping it when I open it, her ringtone making me feel slow and aggressive. When I find the phone, I flick it open and press it angrily against my face,

"What, un?" I spit into it, and hear my mum whimper on the floor. It's the lawyer. He's speaking all respectable, as though I were somehow below him. As though he doesn't know I know what kind of person he is. I hold the phone towards my mother. I'm not going to touch her. Not while she reeks of alcohol and cigarette smoke and aftershave. She takes the phone and leaves the room.

About ten minuets later I hear the shower being turned on upstairs. If she's taking a shower, she'll be going out. I'm not sure whether this is about him, or not. I move into the main room, and turn the TV there on. It's bigger, and this way, I can sit on the sofa. There's nothing on, but I watch it anyway.

I don't know how long I sit there before I hear my mums' ringtone again. She has her mobile upstairs with her, but she's not picking up, and it carries on ringing and ringing, the sound making me feel aggravated and restless. It stops, then there are footsteps. My mum's back. I don't stop watching the TV.

"Honey, 'm going out, kay?" her voice sounds strained, though it's not because she's stressed, it's just that the hangovers catching up with her now.

"Saiko'll be over, yeah?" she tells me as she slams the front door.

"Hope you crash," I mutter to the TV. Saiko is her best friend, and also happens to be my doctor. I can't stand her. But whenever something comes up, it's Saiko, and not my mum, who comes over and sorts things out. That's how it went the first time, and I don't doubt that that's how it will go this time.

Saiko-the-holy arrives about an hour later. She walks in the front door, using the spare key which my mum gave her ages ago, and crosses her arms.

I'm still staring at the TV,

"What, un?" I ask, not turning away from the screen. A moment later, she's standing in front of me, blocking my view of the TV.

"Is that all you're capable of, Deidara? No hi, then? Just "What, un?"? She says the "un," in a horrible, horrible way. Her voice is high pitched. I ignore her, and try to carry on watching whatever is on the screen, not that I really know, it looks like another news program.

"Deidara!"

"What, un? Can't you just leave me alone, un?" it's actually pretty interesting, they're talking about this kid, a little older than me. I can't make out exactly what they're saying.

"No, I can't, you're in a very serious situation, here," I snort, and look at her. Looks like he's missing.

"I'm not, un, he is," she sighs and gives me that I-know-you're-just acting-tough-look and sits down next to me. I watch in disgust as the white suede crinkles around where she sits. I look at the fabric around me. Does it do that when I sit down, too? I hope not...

"... the case is still not closed," the presenter concludes as Saiko hits the switch, plummeting him into darkness.

"Deidara, I know it was very hard for you back then," I give her an incredulous look. "I think that, if this new evidence turns out to be real, there might be another media uproar, like last time," I hadn't doubted for one second that there would be when I saw that news. Of all murderers, teen ones get harassed most, "You're going to have to stay off school for a while," fine by me, really, school is hell, anyway. Well, my friends are okay, but I don't know how they'd react, most of them only moved here within the last five years. "I hope you don't mind that," she pauses, and puts on this annoying little frown, as though it really bothers her, "I'll speak with your head teacher, and get your teachers to send you work by e-mail, okay?"

Damn. I almost thought I was getting an extra holiday.

"What was this new evidence anyway, un? No one ever said, un..." I ask, and she glances at me nervously. I can see she's not sure whether to tell me or not.

"Photos," She answers. I frown. Photos of what exactly? It was an accident and, yes, it was his fault, but... photos? How does that work? I am about to ask her about it, but she seems to sense that, and changes the subject.

It's just like last time. I'm not allowed to leave the house. I hope I'm allowed into the garden. I'm only allowed to talk to my closest friends, who I trust. Even Opening the blinds is out of question. Saiko said there were already a few people outside when she came over, who tried to quiz her out.

"And, Deidara..." she says suddenly, after we've sat in silence, sating at the blank screen for a while. "I know... you haven't been to visit him in all this time, have you?" she looks concerned.

"No, un" I croak. There's this horrible pressure behind my eyes. She's silent for some time.

"Why not, Deidara? I mean..." she looks at me.

Let's get this straight. I can't stand Saiko. She's my doctor, for one thing, and she's my mums beast friend, for another, and she's also just really really weird. Most of the time, she acts towards me as though I'm just some kind of medical experiment, and it freaks me out. Usually, she doesn't seem human, just this robotic, over educated, doctor. The complete opposite of my mum. But she's okay when she's like this. She sounds human, whatever she's usually like.

"I can't" I decide to tell her. She frowns.

"I'd have to go with my parents, un," I mutter as an explanation. Maybe telling her that wasn't a good idea. She looks away and nods. Okay, maybe not that bad.

"You don't hate him, do you?" I shake my head.

"It's not like he did it on purpose, un" She frowns, _again_.

"That's exactly what they thinking, Deidara," she says bluntly, and I stare.

"They think... he murdered them, un?" I watch in horror as she nods.

"He didn't, un! It was an accident! The coroners report said... un...." I look away. The pressure behind my eyes is getting worse. I bit my lip.

"Would you hate him if he had?" I stare at her.

"He didn't, un. You know him, he's the guy who taught me just about everything, un, and I _know_ he wouldn't, un!" she smiles slightly,

"You haven't changed, Deidara, you still stick up for him no matter what," and then she laughs. But we both shut up after that, and sat in silence on the sofa.

Could he have?

I'm seven again. We're at the seaside. He's standing halfway in the water, grinning at me. His voice is ringing across the water to me. I can't hear the words, but I know he's calling me. I run in. It's difficult. The water is thick and sticky, and it feels like there are hundreds of hands under the water, gripping onto my ankles, stopping me from moving. I reach him, and the sun is setting. The sky is blood red. I stare up at him. He's facing away from me. Without hesitating, I grab onto his arm and pull. The water is already up to my neck; the tide has been rising. When he turns, I scream. The water around us has turned scarlet, but not just that. It's running off him, into the water and –

They reach up for me. There are hundred of pairs of arms in the water, with no bodies in sight, reaching out for me, dripping a warm, wet, red liquid.

He's laughing.

The ceiling is spinning. I force myself off the sofa before I'm sick. Explaining how I ruined that sofa would be hell, so that's my immediate thought : _get away from the __sofa_.

I'm crouching on the floor. I feel terrible, despite the fact that there's _nothing_ left in my stomach. My shirt is drenched. I look down at myself. My whole body is drenched in sweat.

Saiko is nowhere to be seen. I feel weak, but I still try to pick myself off the floor. I'm surprised when I manage to stand up straight, even though my head is spinning like crazy. It's dark outside. Did Saiko leave? A wave of relief pours over me at the thought. I try to see if there are any signs of her leaving.

There's a note on the table. She's gone. Except for that, it's full of boring stuff, the don't-go-outside-or-I'll-skin-you, stuff.

Thinking of going outside boost-starts my memory. I need to check on my stuff... which is in the shed, outside. I reckon I can go into the garden at night. It's not like anyone will notice. I pull on my trainers and trudge through the backdoor. The night air is really cold against my sweat drenched skin, even with my T-shirt on, seeing as that's drenched too. I swear under my breath and wrench the shed door open.

The shed is mine. It used to be used for my dads stuff, before all this stuff started, but after I reckoned it was okay to kick his stuff out and move my stuff in.

This, is my_ studio_.

Okay, I used it for some... other stuff... sometimes, too. I use it to escape a lot, actually. But the art is more the escape than the shed. About two years ago, I got fed up with the flickering, battery powered light, and cut a hole in the ceiling, which I fitted a sheet of see though acrylic across later, when I realised that rain was not good for art. I've been fixing it up for a while, so it's pretty much watertight now. I have a mattress in there, too. It's an old one that was in the cellar for ages, and I moved it out here for times when I really needed to be alone.

I sigh, and close the door, leaning against the wall. There's only a small lamp that I kind of stole from inside for night-time lighting now. I fumble around for it, but I can't find it. My heart speeds up a bit. I never move that lamp.

There's a shuffling noise.

I look around nervously.

"Hello, un?" I call out uncertainly.

One of the corners of the shed, the one not taken up by the cupboard or workbench, is too dark. There's a click. A dim light spreads across the old mattress.

I stare at the spot, although the light is obscuring my vision.

"Do you ever wonder," a voice calls out from the corner. It sends shivers down my spine. "What would have happened, if you hadn't saved him?" I'm not sure my reaction to this voice is right. The light is turned away, so that it's not glaring in my face anymore.

"Maybe it would have saved someones' life," my eyes lock onto a pair of greyish eyes. They seem to shine red in the moonlight.


End file.
